


someday (you will be loved)

by robotsdance



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship (future!Jaime/future!Brienne), F/M, First Time (Jaime/future!Brienne/future!Jaime), Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth/Jaime Lannister, Threesome, Time Travel, also this fic is relentlessly soft, there are two Jaimes in this fic, this fic is indefensible but I had fun, to be extremely clear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24823744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotsdance/pseuds/robotsdance
Summary: Jaime finds himself seven years in the future and has to endure a week on Tarth in the company of his older self and Brienne. And the other Jaime and Brienne are married. To each other.(Jaime is trying not to dwell on it.)
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth/Jaime Lannister - Relationship
Comments: 149
Kudos: 422





	someday (you will be loved)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, if you read the title, tags, and summary you know what you're in for and I have no excuses or apologies.
> 
> Thanks to slipsthrufingers for the beta and for putting up with this sort of nonsense on a regular basis.

Jaime is not where he was. These are not the halls he has walked since he was five-and-ten. It is dark where he is now too, but not in the same way as where he was in the Red Keep.

He does not know where he is.

He follows the sound of voices, as they are the only thing he has to go on. It sounds like two people, perhaps three, but he is armed and armoured and he likes his chances, if it comes to that.

The door to the room where the voices are coming from is open. Firelight is spilling into the hall. The voice he can hear is relaxed and untroubled. If this is a trap, they are doing their best to ensure it does not feel like one. The people within the room give no indication that they know Jaime is here.

Jaime approaches the door with caution, hoping he is able to glance inside without being noticed to get his bearings.

*

Brienne of Tarth’s eyes go wide at the sight of him.

He ducks back out of sight to collect himself, but her eyes are still wide when he moves back into the doorway once again, determined to get some answers. She has a scar on her cheek she did not have the last time he saw her, but he would know her eyes anywhere.

“Jaime?” she asks as she looks between him and the man sitting beside her.

The man sitting beside her looks right at Jaime and says, “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

*

Jaime’s hand finds the hilt of his sword in an instant as he fights the urge to draw it and demand to know what the fuck is going on here. Where is he? Why is he here? Why is Brienne here? And why is—

Jaime keeps looking between the two of them. Between Brienne and the other man.

The other man who is him.

The other man who is Jaime Lannister.

The other Jaime Lannister has a beard. The other Jaime Lannister has hair longer than his is now. But it is him.

Jaime is certain.

*

“Jaime?” Brienne says, “What is… Jaime?”

Brienne looks as shocked as he feels, staring at him like she cannot believe her eyes, like he is some dream or trick or curse. Something. Something that explains why he is here in front of her and sitting calmly on her right both at the same time.

Brienne is the Brienne he knows, but a little older than Jaime has ever seen her, he notices, now that he’s been staring at her for what feels like hours. It has not been so long since he gave her Oathkeeper. It has not been so long…

The other Jaime is older than he is as well, but not by so much that he isn’t painfully recognizable as him. His hair is longer, there are more lines on his face, there is more grey in his hair than Jaime cares to acknowledge…

But it is undoubtedly him.

And there’s a smile on this other Jaime’s face.

He alone is unbothered by what is happening right now.

*

“I assume formal introductions are unnecessary,” the other Jaime says, “But all the same, Brienne, I trust you recognize Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard.”

Brienne doesn’t answer in words. She just stares at him, her gaze taking in his golden armour, his white cloak, his face…

“And Jaime, I know you’ve had the pleasure of meeting Lady Brienne,” he continues, “My wife.”

“Your...?”

“Wife,” the other Jaime says, plainly enjoying this, “My wife.”

*

Seven years separate him from them. That is what they piece together while he stands awkwardly in the doorway trying to get his head around it. Seven years separate him from them, but there they are.

He, Jaime, has only just recently given Brienne Oathkeeper and sent her in search of Sansa Stark.

And they… They are not forthcoming with any details about what has passed in those seven years, but they are here together on Tarth.

And they are married.

*

Brienne approaches him, then walks around him, as if it is still possible he is not truly here in front of her. Some trick of the light.

When she is standing back in front of him she studies his face, then tentatively reaches to touch the crown engraved on his breastplate.

He cannot feel her through his armour but he sees the exact moment she accepts that he is undeniably real and here in front of her.

*

“You knew this was going to happen?” Brienne asks the other Jaime as she turns to look at him, her hand is still on his armour, “Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I could not be certain it would. That is was not a trick or a dream or—”

“But you didn’t think it was.”

“No,” the other Jaime agrees, “But would you have believed me if I had told you?”

She grumbles a bit at that. She looks very much like the Brienne he recently traveled south with in that moment.

Jaime feels himself smiling at that.

Jaime feels himself smiling at that until he notices that the other Jaime is once again smiling at him.

*

“You remember this happening,” Jaime says to his older self, determined to get some answers from the only person here equipped to provide them.

“Yes.”

“You remember being here.”

“Yes.”

“As me.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know how it happened? Do you know why?”

“No.”

“How do I get back?”

“You wait.”

“How long?”

“Seven days,” the other Jaime says.

“And then I return?”

“Yes.”

“When I return will seven days have passed?”

“No,” the other Jaime says, “You return to the moment you left.”

“Then why—”

“I don’t know,” the older Jaime says, “I do not know why or how. I do know it only happens once. Just this one time. And I know there is nothing you can do to return to your own time any sooner. You can trust me on that, though I know you will not.”

Jaime sighs, “Seven days.”

The other Jaime nods once, “Seven days.”

*

“You know what happens,” Jaime says, “For the next seven days, you know what happens.”

“Yes.”

“And when I get back. You know what happens next.”

“Yes.”

“You know who wins the war. Who sits upon the iron throne.”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

The other Jaime shakes his head, “No.”

“What’s stopping me from running into town and asking everyone I see what I want to know?”

“Do you truly wish to know?” Brienne asks.

Yes, he thinks. No. He thinks of Cersei, obsessed with the ravings of an old woman she heard when she was a girl, her imaginary future looming over her always. No, he thinks, more firmly this time. No.

He doesn’t want to know anything about the war.

He looks at the other Jaime and Brienne and then has to look away.

He already knows too much.

*

It is late and he is here and there is nothing any of them can do about it at the moment. The other Jaime says it will be seven days before Jaime returns to his own time. Jaime doesn’t want to believe him.

They opt not to call for a squire or servant to help him remove his armour for the night. It would not do to have to explain to anyone why a man who looks remarkably like the lord of the house has appeared wearing Kingsguard armour and a golden hand.

Instead it is Brienne who helps him with his armour while the other Jaime goes into the room next door and returns with an armful of clothing.

“I hope they fit,” the other Jaime says mildly.

Jaime fights the urge to strangle him a little bit.

The corner of Brienne’s mouth turns upwards as if in spite of herself.

*

They have set him up in what are clearly Brienne’s bedchambers. It is equally obvious that the room sees little use. The bed has been made with clean sheets that have been left untouched for some time. This is not a room she spends time in.

No. Brienne spends her nights in the adjoining room. With her husband.

Jaime tries not to think on that too much.

*

Still, Jaime lies on Brienne’s bed and thinks of Brienne. He tries to limit his thinking to the Brienne he knows from his own time, not the one sleeping alongside her husband in the next room. That Brienne is a near-stranger to him. But the Brienne he knows… He likes Brienne. He is fond of Brienne. Is very fond of her perhaps. He thinks of her sometimes. Since he gave her Oathkeeper and sent her on her way he has thought of her on occasion. At random moments throughout the day certainly, and even more often as he lies abed at night, much like he finds himself now.

Yes, he thinks of Brienne, but he is not… not the way the other Jaime is… that is not… he is not…

Jaime tries to put it from his mind.

He’s just shocked is all. Anyone would be shocked to find themselves inexplicably seven years in the future alongside a version of himself he does not know and a wife he does.

Anyone would find that shocking.

That is what is keeping him up this night.

That is all.

*

In the morning Jaime dresses himself in the clothing the other Jaime provided. His Kingsguard armour and his golden hand had been tucked away out of sight the night before. It is important that he not look so desperately out of place, nor so obviously like his counterpart. Jaime suspects he will see little more of Tarth than this bedchamber in any case.

At least the window faces the sea.

*

There’s a knock on the door. Jaime doesn’t answer. He wonders if he should hide. They did not discuss what he should do if such a thing occurred last night. What if it is a servant, here to air out the rarely used room? He surely cannot be seen. Not when he looks so like the other Jaime.

“It’s me,” the other Jaime says from the other side of the door.

Jaime tells him to enter.

“Come on then,” the other Jaime says as he strides in and glances at him, “Brienne’s getting the horses ready.”

“The horses?”

“You’re here for a few days. We’ll show you the island.”

“You’ll show me the island?” he repeats incredulously.

“It is quite beautiful. Water like sapphires. You’ll see.”

“We can’t… we can’t be seen together. How will you explain—”

“A Lannister cousin,” the other Jaime provides with ease, “Gods know you have the look.”

“We’re missing the same hand,” Jaime points out, lifting his stump to emphasize his point, “They will suspect.”

“Who would suspect the truth of this matter?” the other Jaime says, “The truth is impossible.”

Unfortunately for Jaime, that doesn’t make it any less true.

Jaime follows his older self from the room.

*

“Wait,” Jaime says after the other Jaime has led him outside and they are about to descend a staircase that must lead to the stables.

To his credit, the other Jaime stops and steps aside, resting his hand on the stone wall. Jaime approaches and stands beside him. The view is something, remarkable even, but that is not what Jaime needs to discuss.

“Cersei,” Jaime says. He does not say it like a question. But it is a question.

The other Jaime looks out across the sea. This is the only answer he gives.

“She is dead,” Jaime knows.

The other Jaime does not reply.

“Is that why you are here?” he asks. He doesn’t want to know everything about what has happened in the seven years between them, but he needs to know this. Surely he is entitled to know this.

“No.” 

“No?”

“I left Cersei,” the other Jaime says.

“I wouldn’t.”

“I did.”

“When?” Jaime demands, “Why?”

The other Jaime shakes his head. Jaime feels his frustration mounting.

“And the children?” he asks, “Myrcella? Tommen?”

The other Jaime does not reply, but he does not need to for Jaime to understand.

The children are dead too.

“I will protect them,” Jaime says, “I will save them.”

The other Jaime nods once but gives no other reply.

*

They are still standing side by side, looking out across the water from where the other Jaime now calls home.

Jaime wants to ask more but he doesn’t, and the other Jaime does not rush him to speak or to move on. He just stands beside him while Jaime wrestles with the weight of that information.

Here and now Cersei is dead. Their children are dead. The other Jaime left Cersei before she died. He left. But he would not. Jaime would not leave Cersei. Not after he has fought so hard to be by her side. His whole life, that is all he has wanted.

But the other Jaime left Cersei.

Somewhere between them is the Jaime who leaves Cersei.

And Jaime doesn’t know what to do with that information.

*

“Brienne is waiting for us,” the other Jaime says quietly, sometime later, “Whenever you are ready.”

Jaime is certain of few things, but he knows he is not ready.

Not yet.

*

Jaime follows the other Jaime down to the stables where Brienne has indeed readied three horses.

She greets her husband warmly. She greets them both warmly, asking if he slept well. If he is hungry. If he is agreeable to spending the day seeing Tarth.

Brienne does not call it home, but it is clear from how she says the word Tarth that that is what it is.

Home.

For both her and her husband.

*

Once they are mounted the other Jaime rides ahead, or perhaps Brienne hangs back. Either way, the result is the same: Brienne is riding beside him. She’s not in armour, and nor is the other Jaime, but Brienne has Oathkeeper at her hip. Jaime keeps glancing at the hilt of her sword.

“Are you all right?” she asks him.

Jaime is not certain how to answer that question.

He is here and now. Here seven years in his future. With Brienne. And another Jaime. And they are married. And Cersei is dead. And the children are dead. And he left Cersei. And the war is over. And somewhere out across the sea the Seven Kingdoms or what remains of them carry on. In front of him Brienne and the other Jaime carry on. So much has happened. So much has not yet happened.

And here he is.

And there is nothing he can do about it.

“It’s just strange,” he says, because what else can he say, “Being here with you. And him.”

Brienne looks away from him and back to the other Jaime up ahead.

“It is strange for me as well,” she admits, “To have you here as you were then.”

“Seven years is a long time,” he agrees.

“So is seven days,” she replies, “Yet here you are.”

Jaime nods and looks away. He is not used to being looked at the way Brienne looks at him here and now.

*

Brienne points out the main road from a distance. It seems she shares the opinion that keeping him from sight is wise. The other Jaime is probably correct that few people, if anyone, would suspect or believe the truth, but avoiding testing that theory seems prudent.

Instead they venture off in the other direction.

*

They talk as they ride, all three of them. The conversation is far more natural than it should be, given the circumstances.

Both Brienne and the other Jaime offer little pieces of information about where they are. The meadow they are passing through, the cliffs to the east, the docks they can see far down the shore. Every so often something Brienne says gives the smallest glimpse of her childhood and Jaime has to stop himself from prying for more information.

It turns out he doesn’t have to. Whenever Brienne hesitates as if fearing Jaime will be bored by what she has to say the other Jaime is quick to say, “You have to tell him that story. I love that story.”

“Yes, and you already know it,” she says. She sounds a little exasperated, but there is so much fondness in her tone that Jaime looks off to the horizon instead of focusing on her.

“But he doesn’t,” the other Jaime points out, all the while Jaime is silently burning with curiosity about the story in question.

It’s a story about Brienne and her brother. Before her brother died. Jaime didn’t even know she’d had a brother.

The Brienne he knows wouldn’t have offered up such a story to him, but the one riding alongside him offers it freely.

*

They stop to eat in the shade of some trees while the sun is particularly hot overhead. The long grass ripples in the breeze over the hills.

Maybe it’s just that he knows that the war is over, but Jaime cannot imagine a more peaceful place.

*

“It’s a shame we only brought one sword,” the other Jaime thinks aloud from where he’s laid out on the grass beside Brienne, “There’s nothing like a sword fight up here on the hills.”

“Perhaps later in the week,” Brienne says, “At the very least we can go down to the yard, if our guest is agreeable.”

It takes Jaime a few long moments to realize they are waiting for him to respond, so he does. He would spar with them, if the opportunity arises. However, when Jaime thinks of the last time he had a sword in his hand Jaime is relieved they did not bring two swords with them today. He is better than he was when he first lost his hand but he is a far cry from what he was.

But if he was still whole…

Jaime suddenly has to work very hard not to imagine what it would be like to fight with Brienne out here in the open, surrounded by nothing but sky and grass. No one would interrupt them here. They could spar all day if they wished. They could—

No. He couldn’t.

The other Jaime could. The other Jaime has.

But Jaime can’t.

*

They linger there in the meadow for quite some time before moving on.

Jaime has never seen Brienne so relaxed and Jaime has never been as content as the other Jaime is in this moment. They both smile easily and frequently. At one point the other Jaime studies his younger self for a long moment and then makes a stupid joke about how perhaps it’s time he trimmed his hair and Brienne laughs and then asks Jaime, the short-haired Jaime, what opinions he holds on this important matter.

They’re both so comfortable around him. It puts Jaime on edge. No one is this comfortable around him.

*

That is what Jaime dwells on as they continue their ride through the afternoon. No one is this comfortable around him. Not one single person he can think of.

Jaime doesn’t know what to do with that thought.

*

They sit down to supper that evening after they return. The three of them at a table that the other Jaime and Brienne must sit at together nearly every day. Jaime tries not to think of that, but it is impossible not to. Not when they are here and so is he and he has spent the day as a spectator to their marriage.

The food is modest but delicious. They both apologize for the simplicity of their meal though there is no need. (Brienne had confessed to Jaime as they rode that she had awoken early to give the small number of servants she employs the week off. “That way you won’t have to worry about being seen,” she’d said, “You can just be.”)

While they eat the three of them speak of any number of things that are not politics or the things that transpired in the time that has passed between them.

*

They both keep looking at him as they eat and talk and drink. The other Jaime and Brienne. They look at him and they smile warmly when he notices them looking.

Jaime looks away.

*

The other Jaime is nothing like Cersei, Jaime realizes with a jolt when they are finishing their meal. The other Jaime isn’t even wholly like _him_. Perhaps that is what is most disconcerting about this whole situation. He’s spent his whole life with his twin, his other half. He was so sure they were the same person. He and Cersei… they were the same. Even when they weren’t, they were the same person.

But now he’s here with himself. Not a twin. Himself. Jaime is the one seated across from him. And even he is not as similar as Jaime would have expected. Yes, there are seven years between them, but the other Jaime is not Cersei. Not even a little. And he’s not just a mirror image of himself either.

The other Jaime is not his reflection.

The other Jaime is his future.

Jaime doesn’t know what to make of that.

*

All in all, it is not an unpleasant day.

But as he lies in Brienne’s bed afterwards, in the bedchamber she does not use, he cannot settle. He thinks of the way Brienne looked at her Jaime. He thinks of Cersei back in King’s Landing in his own time. Of Brienne on the road with the sword he gave her. With the sword she still wears on her hip. He does not belong here.

He does not belong here.

*

Jaime gets out of bed and creeps out into the hall as quietly as he can. He slows when he is outside of their bedchambers but hears no voices. They are asleep. Good.

Everything about this is entirely too strange, even if parts of today were not unpleasant. Even if parts of today were thoroughly enjoyable. He does not belong here. He does not belong here and he will not endure this strange torture any longer than he must.

*

Jaime returns to the hallway he first appeared in. This is where he arrived here. Surely this is where he can leave.

He retraces his steps. He is still here on Tarth.

He closes his eyes. He thinks of the Red Keep. He steps forward with purpose. He is still here on Tarth.

He does everything he can think of. Prays to each god in turn, the old and the new and a few he just made up (which god oversees those who have accidentally found themselves as an honoured guest of their future self?) Nothing works. He is still here on Tarth.

When he returns to his bed it is well into the night and he is still here on Tarth.

*

Jaime shaves his face meticulously after he wakes late the next morning. He must… he must look like himself as fully as he can. He cannot look like the other Jaime. Not even a little.

Because he is not the other Jaime.

He is not that Jaime.

He is not Brienne’s Jaime.

*

“Did you sleep well?” the other Jaime asks when Jaime eventually shows his tired but cleanly shaven face.

Brienne and the other Jaime have already broken their fast, but there is food laid out for him.

Jaime does not dignify the other Jaime’s question with a response.

The other Jaime knows perfectly well he spent half the night trying to get back to his own time.

*

Jaime eats in silence.

He feels like he has a lot to answer for, sitting here at this table with them once again. It is not his fault he is here, but he is here nonetheless.

And he does not belong here.

*

It rains most of the morning, putting a damper on their plans to go down to the yard. Jaime is somewhat sorry for that, but he is grateful for the excuse to leave them to whatever they would be doing if he were not here with them.

Jaime does not force his company upon them, instead retreating to his room to mull things over. He must figure out a way to return to his own time. This is what he focuses on. Because that is the solution. He is not the other Jaime and Brienne is not his wife and every moment he stays here he has to think about how that came to be and how happy they both are and how comfortable they are with him, somehow, and how they both look at him with fondness and how Jaime does not know—

He must figure out how to return to his own time. That is all. The sooner he leaves the better.

*

The clouds clear by early afternoon. Sunlight streams in from the window. (Jaime is still on Tarth.)

It is Brienne who comes and knocks on his door and asks if he would be willing to join them on a walk. The other Jaime is a little ways down the hall. She does not mention sparring, and she is not dressed or armed for such an activity.

He considers saying no. He does not belong here. He is not her Jaime. She is not the Brienne he knows…

*

Jaime follows where Brienne leads, on foot this time, not horseback. Just her and the other Jaime and him following a footpath through the trees that would be easy to overlook. The sky above is bright and clear, as if the rain of the morning was merely a dream.

The sound of the ocean gets louder as they walk.

*

It is almost indecent how quickly the other Jaime rids himself of his jerkin and tunic once they are at a secluded piece of shore that it is clear they know well.

Jaime averts his eyes, not without noticing a new scar or two on the other Jaime’s body. None of them are as pronounced as the ones on his stump of course, but even those… the scars on the other Jaime’s wrist have faded, no longer the thick ropes of tissue that greet him every time he removes his own golden hand.

“Jaime!” Brienne says, and Jaime looks towards her instinctively, even though he realizes she is not speaking to him even before he sees the other Jaime halting his progress ridding himself of his smallclothes, “We have company!”

“Nothing he hasn’t seen before,” the other Jaime says lightly, “And nothing he’s not going to see again.”

“Be that as it may,” Brienne says diplomatically as she undoes the laces of her jerkin and sets it aside.

The other Jaime has the audacity to smile at him before he charges out into the ocean with abandon, as if daring him to say something clever.

Frolic might be a strong word, Jaime thinks as he watches his older self shout and dive into an oncoming wave, but Jaime is fairly sure it is the right one.

*

Brienne is more modest than her husband as she undresses, but only barely, removing everything but her smallclothes. This is obviously out of the ordinary because the other Jaime makes note of it from where he is drifting in the ocean not far from shore, gently teasing her about the first time she brought him here. She glances at the other Jaime ( _her_ Jaime) out in the water before she looks at Jaime apologetically, before telling her Jaime, “There is no need to make this more difficult for him.”

“I disagree,” the other Jaime says as Brienne wades out into the water to join him, “Will you be joining us Ser Jaime? The water is quite something this time of year.”

*

Jaime isn’t going to go swimming. He isn’t going to go swimming because that is what the other Jaime wants him to want to do.

But it is hot standing on the shore of the sheltered beach in the direct sunlight and the water truly is sapphire blue and Jaime cannot remember the last time he got to do something as simple as swim for pleasure.

Jaime begins to undress.

(He does not even contemplate removing his smallclothes.)

*

Jaime ventures out into the shallows, keeping a good distance from the other Jaime and Brienne. The water is refreshing, but pleasantly so. He glances at the other Jaime and Brienne (her smallclothes are clinging to her body and he is forcibly reminded of the time they shared a bath) before he looks away.

That Brienne is not the Brienne he knows. Not anymore. She was that Brienne, but now she is someone else. Still Brienne. Still so much Brienne that he can barely stand to be around her, she is still so much the person he entrusted Oathkeeper to. The person he has found himself thinking of since he sent her away. Brienne. Brienne Brienne Brienne…

He needs to get himself together. She is not the Brienne of his own time. And he is not her Jaime.

And he is not—

Jaime hits the water hard and struggles to free himself from the cause of his sudden submersion, the shock of it as great as his annoyance as he bats the culprit away from him and kicks towards the air above.

Brienne is watching them when they surface, Jaime sputtering, the other Jaime grinning.

Jaime cannot believe him. He cannot fucking believe him.

The other Jaime gives him an obnoxious grin and a little tilt of his head before he turns back to Brienne.

Jaime doesn’t think about it, he just launches himself at the old bastard when he’s not looking and tackles him into the water.

The other Jaime fights back like a friend might, like a brother would, the two of them wrestling in the waist-high water like they’ve been doing this all their lives.

*

When the truce comes, by mutual agreement and a playful shove or two that they cannot resist, they both shake the water from their hair and look back to Brienne.

Brienne is right where she was when the other Jaime first attacked.

She hasn’t taken her eyes off them.

And she doesn’t, not until her Jaime dives into the water and swims over to her until he’s right in front of her once again. And that is how it should be. The other Jaime is her Jaime. That is the Jaime she should look at. (That is the Jaime she should look at like that.)

But even with her Jaime standing in front of her, saying something to her that Jaime cannot quite catch but that makes Brienne blush and laugh, Brienne looks around her husband to smile at him too.

*

Jaime is in a hurry to redress when the three of them return to land, but the other two are not. They stretch out on the shore to let the sun dry them and it feels indecent, somehow, to be so near them. They are just lying there in their smallclothes, Brienne on her front, the other Jaime on his back. They are close enough to touch one another but they are not. They’re just lying there in the sun like they’ve done this a hundred times before.

Jaime pulls on his breeches and walks along the shore by himself, letting the waves lap at his ankles as he goes until sometime later Brienne falls in step with him.

*

She’s wearing her breeches and tunic once again, but not her boots or her jerkin. She’s rolled up her breeches so they didn’t get wet as she jogged along the shore to catch up to him. He can see her footprints in the sand next to his.

Jaime is unprepared to have Brienne by his side. He is unprepared for the other Jaime to be out of earshot. They have not been alone like this since he arrived.

They have not been alone like this since he gave her Oathkeeper.

He doesn’t know what to say.

*

“It is beautiful here,” he says eventually, “You have a lovely home, Lady Brienne.”

“Jaime.”

He flinches at her informal manner. At the naked affection for him in her tone. Affection that is misplaced. He is not the Jaime she is married to.

“My apologies, Ser Ja—”

“No,” he says, hating her courtesy, “Do not mistake me. I enjoy having you address me so informally, but I am not used to it. You have never… You do not address me that way.”

She nods, “I should have asked sooner. How would you like me to address you while you are here?”

Ser Jaime would be easier. It would make it clear which of them she is addressing. It would make it clear that one of the Jaimes here on Tarth is her husband and the other is him, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard. Ser Jaime from another time. Ser Jaime who is not married to Brienne of Tarth.

He should ask her to call him ‘Ser Jaime’ like she used to, perhaps even ‘Kingslayer’. Anything to differentiate him from the other Jaime. Her husband Jaime. Her Jaime.

That is what Jaime should do.

He asks her to call him ‘Jaime’ while he is here.

So she does.

He likes the sound of her calling him that far more than he should.

*

“He remembers this,” Jaime says, looking down the beach to where the other Jaime is still lying on the shore.

“He does,” Brienne confirms.

“Has he told you what happens?”

“No.”

“What did he tell you?” he asks. He is certain she and the other Jaime have discussed this matter privately. They must have.

“That you are him.”

“I am not.”

“He said you are him and I am me and that we should enjoy ourselves.”

Jaime tips his head back and sighs, “He’s insufferable.”

He can feel Brienne looking at him. He can feel her smiling at him. He does not remember his Brienne ever smiling as much as the one in front of him does. He cannot face her.

“I do understand the irony,” he adds.

He chances a glance at her. She’s still smiling at him.

“Still,” he continues, protests, whatever, “You are the one who married him.” Married _me_ , he cannot help but think. But he cannot allow himself to think of it that way. Brienne is not his wife. The other Jaime is not him. (Not yet.)

*

Once they have returned to where the other Jaime is dozing in the sunlight and redressed they follow the same path they took to get to this particular patch of shore. Jaime leads the way, more than ready to leave the beach behind him.

When Jaime looks back at them to ask which way to turn when he finds himself with two to choose from he is greeted by the sight of Brienne holding the other Jaime’s hand.

Brienne tells him to veer left, which Jaime does, trying to push away the image of them walking along behind him hand in hand.

*

They take their evening meal together once again. It is a pleasant affair, the sort of thing Jaime imagines a family supper might be like if his family were not his family. Perhaps he and Tyrion have shared meals like this, he thinks, the two of them lingering at the table long past the time they have finished eating to continue their conversation, with good ale and good company and good spirits. There must have been moments of something like this, Jaime thinks, even as he knows nothing in his life has been anything like this.

Brienne says something that makes both he and the other Jaime laugh in surprise, their near-identical laughter bouncing off the stone walls around them. Brienne visibly startles at the strangeness of it, at the synchrony of their laughter, at how undeniable it is, in that moment, that two of the same man sit at this table with her.

But then she laughs as well.

It is still undeniably strange to be here with them both, but Jaime enjoys being in their company in spite of himself.

*

That night Jaime wakes late at night to the soft sounds of—

He jolts awake.

It is late. It is very late. They must think he is asleep. He was asleep. He thought they were asleep. But they aren’t asleep because he can hear them—

No.

He is determined to hear nothing.

To think of nothing.

To think of anything but what the other Jaime and Brienne are obviously doing right now in their marriage bed.

Jaime rolls over onto his side, dragging a pillow with him and pulling it over his head to muffle the sounds as he tries to will himself back to sleep.

(He still catches the soft murmur of their voices, the rhythmic creak of their bed, their quiet laughter…)

*

Jaime is awake and he is hard and he is no happier about any of that than he is about what he is overhearing still. Despite his best efforts not to hear anything. At all.

This is strange enough without them doing that when he is in the next room.

*

Jaime sleeps fitfully.

When he wakes too early the following morning for the sun to have risen he dresses and shoves his feet into boots regardless of the hour.

He does not belong here so he will not stay here.

It is as simple as that.

*

“Where are you off to?” the other Jaime asks as he catches him on his way to the stairs that lead down to the stables, the stairs that lead away from this place.

“Away,” Jaime says, “I don’t… I don’t belong here.”

“Not yet,” the other Jaime says. Brienne’s Jaime, “But you will.”

“Not in the next four days,” Jaime replies. He will gather a few supplies and go to some untouched part of Tarth and stay there until he returns to his own time. He will wait out whatever this is away from the other Jaime. And away from her.

“I know why you want to leave,” the other Jaime says.

“You don’t—”

“I do,” he says. And fuck him for sounding so nice about it.

“I’m not supposed to be here!”

“But you are,” the other Jaime says.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jaime snaps, “I don’t want your pity!”

“It is not pity.”

“It is.”

“It is not.”

Jaime wants to hit him. Maybe Jaime should hit him. He keeps clenching his fist. He would feel better if he hit him.

The other Jaime exhales softly. Then he says, “Jaime.”

Jaime says, “Fuck you.”

The other Jaime says “Jaime” again. Kindly. He says it kindly. Fuck him and his kindness. Jaime doesn’t want that either. He doesn’t want his pity or his kindness. He doesn’t want any part of this.

“I didn’t ask to come here!” Jaime says, “It will be better for all of us if I pretend I am not here until I am no longer here.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Well then,” the other Jaime says, “It seems you have made up your mind. I will make no effort to stop you. Brienne will be disappointed she did not get to say goodbye.”

Jaime does not move from where he stands.

*

Jaime tries to leave. Manages to get as far as pacing a few steps in either direction. Towards the stairs and then away. He does this a few times. He does not belong here. He needs to leave. He needs to leave this Jaime and this Brienne in peace because he does not belong here and being around them, being around Brienne is too much. Being around Brienne like this is more than he can bear.

He does not get more than six feet from the other Jaime.

But the other Jaime doesn’t say anything to him. He just stays where he is.

Waiting.

*

Jaime needs to leave.

It makes sense for him to leave. It is the only thing he can do. He must leave.

It is too hard to be here.

Jaime does not leave.

*

“It is hard to be here,” Jaime admits, exhausted from trying to pretend it isn’t, exhausted from not screaming at the other Jaime that it is excruciating to be here on Tarth right now.

“Why?”

He feels his jaw tighten, “You know why.”

“But do you?”

Jaime resists the renewed urge to punch the other Jaime in the face. For all his insistence that he knows everything about him, that is the question he chooses to ask of him now?

“Forgive me,” the other Jaime says. The older Jaime. Somehow he looks older now than he has ever before. He sounds so sincere.

He sounds so sincere and it doesn’t make Jaime want to punch him any less.

The other Jaime seems to know this as well. “You will have your turn in my place,” he says, “If that is any comfort.”

“It is not.”

“It will be.”

*

“Forgive me,” the other Jaime says again, “You do not need to explain yourself. Not about this. Not about anything. You do not need to speak of the matter, but it is not a secret. You have no secrets from me. There is nothing you could confess that I do not already know.”

“Yet you keep secrets from me!”

“Yes,” the other Jaime says simply, “I do.”

*

Jaime paces. He wants to leave. The stairs are right there. The stairs are right there and beyond them all of Tarth awaits. The other Jaime has said he will not stop him. Jaime should leave. He wants to leave. Spend the rest of his time here away from his older self and…

Jaime should leave.

*

“It is hard to be so near her,” Jaime says aloud after a long stretch of shared silence. Jaime speaks because the other Jaime already knows so Jaime may as well say it, “It is hard to be so near Brienne.”

At least the other Jaime has the good grace not to ask why.

The other Jaime must know Jaime is in no position to say the answer to that aloud. The way he’s looking at him though, there is no mistaking the look in his eyes.

And the other Jaime was right. It is not pity in his eyes.

It is understanding.

Understanding is much worse.

*

Jaime should leave.

Jaime should leave.

(Jaime does not leave.)

*

“Come on. Brienne has business to attend to this morning, but it would be a shame if you were to leave before we had the chance to spar.”

Jaime relents and lets his older self lead the way.

*

The other Jaime is older and no longer actively serving in a war, but he is better with his left hand than Jaime is with his. A lot better. There’s a naturalness to his movements that Jaime envies and is nowhere close to achieving. He is still… he is better than he was when he first returned to King’s Landing short his sword hand but all of his instincts are still wrong. His body has not let go of his sword hand and every movement he still feels like he has to fight with himself to move accurately.

They do not spar at full intensity. The other Jaime sets a slower pace and does not mock his younger self for appreciating it, perhaps because he knows the exact state Jaime’s skills are in.

*

The other Jaime does not try to teach him either. He is unusually quiet and focused as they exchange strikes.

Only when Jaime asks him a specific question about how he learned to do that, does the other Jaime offer his advice.

*

Brienne greets them as they are on their way back up to the castle, wondering aloud where they had been since such an early hour of the morning.

“The yard,” the other Jaime says, bypassing the part where Jaime tried to leave entirely, “Our guest was keen to have a go at me.”

Brienne smiles at them both, “I should have liked to see that.”

The other Jaime looks from Brienne to him without a word, giving him the space to respond.

“Then we shall have to do it again sometime,” Jaime replies.

*

The other Jaime convinced him to stay, but that does not make it easier to be here. Brienne is here. Brienne is here and so is the other Jaime and as they sit down to eat once again Jaime goes out of his way to look at his food, to look out the window, to look at the tapestry on the wall behind the other Jaime. Anything to not focus on them so much.

Jaime will stay, but he cannot… he cannot be around them all day. He cannot handle another day with Brienne and her Jaime as they are.

He means to excuse himself from the table but the other Jaime beats him to it, leaving him and Brienne to finish alone.

*

It is hard to be around the both of them together, but being alone with Brienne is worse. She calls him Jaime as he asked her to. No formal titles. No ‘Kingslayer’ or ‘Oathbreaker’. No, she calls him Jaime here because that is what he asked her to call him.

And he likes it. He likes it very much.

And all the while she’s calling him Jaime she is kind and stubborn and Brienne. The Brienne he traveled south with, the Brienne he shared a bath with, the Brienne he fought a bear with, the Brienne he sent away from King’s Landing. It is seven years later, but she is Brienne.

Brienne is sitting across from him.

Brienne is married to him. But not to him. To the other Jaime. That is who she is married to.

But she’s sitting across from him and speaking to him the way she speaks to the other Jaime.

If he is to survive the rest of his days here he must not be alone with her like this.

Her kindness is more than he can bear.

*

Jaime returns to his room, planning to waste away as much of the day as possible there. Once again he had not slept well the night before. Perhaps he will sleep. But when he lays down sleep does not come.

He is too aware that he is in Brienne’s bedchamber on Tarth.

*

He does not manage to sleep, but he does manage to avoid being alone with Brienne for the rest of the day.

As hollow a victory as that is, at least it is something.

*

Jaime wakes early again. The sun has risen, but only just.

He gets out of bed and shaves his face before he does anything else.

*

Once again he ventures out before either Brienne or the other Jaime are awake. He walks past the hallway he first appeared in on his way outside. He closes his eyes and tries to picture himself returning to his own time with weary desperation but he knows it is futile. He is still on Tarth.

He is still on Tarth so he goes outside to be on Tarth.

Because no matter what he does for the next few days, he will be on Tarth.

*

Tarth is beautiful.

Jaime climbs to the top of a nearby hill and sits near the edge of the cliff that drops down to the ocean to watch the sun continue to rise across the horizon. The wind off the sea is cool but the sunlight is already warm, even this early in the day. A school of dolphins leaps from the sparkling water below as they swim past.

Tarth is beautiful.

*

“Good morning Jaime,” Brienne says and his heart beats faster without his consent. She speaks his name so comfortably that it makes him ache. He never should have asked her to call him that while he is here. He should ask her to call him Ser Jaime instead. It is not too late for that, but he cannot bring himself to do so.

“May I join you?” she asks.

“Of course.”

She sits beside him and together they watch the waves in silence for a while before she says, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

He doesn’t agree, but he doesn’t deny it either.

“I know this is hard for you,” she says, “This is hard for me as well.”

“It is?”

“Sometimes it is hard to…” Brienne looks away, “It is hard to see you as you were.”

He should not ask. He should not ask. There is no answer to the question that will soothe him. He asks. “Why?”

“Because I know you and I know what you are going back to face. To live through.”

“You could tell me,” he says, as lightly as he can, “You could tell me everything that old bastard doesn’t want me to know.”

She shakes her head, “He’s you Jaime. And even if he wasn’t, you said it yourself that you didn’t want to know.”

Jaime sighs. “I don’t want to know about the war,” he says, “But there are things I want to know.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“So ask me,” she says, “Perhaps I will be able to tell you.”

He shakes his head, “I am not supposed to be here. I should not…” he should not know that she survives what is ahead, he definitely should not know that somehow he marries her, (he wants to know everything about how that comes to be), “I already know too much.”

“Then tell me something,” she says.

“Tell you something?”

“There is so much I cannot tell you because of when I’m from. Because one day you will be here with me and there is a risk that somehow you knowing too much will change that. But there is nothing you can tell me that will change what has happened to me since you last saw me in your time.”

Jaime sits with that thought. Seven years have passed since Jaime last saw that Brienne. The Brienne he shared a bath with, not two moons ago. The Brienne he gave a sword to. The Brienne he sent away. The Brienne he did not go with when he had the chance.

“Everything has already happened,” she says, “So tell me something.”

*

The waves break against the shore.

*

“I think of you,” he tells her, “Often.”

“You think of me?” She smiles as if she knows what that means. As if she knows exactly what he cannot tell her. He has no secrets from the other Jaime and it seems he has few secrets from her as well.

“I will think of you more often after this,” he admits.

Her laugh is soft and low and wonderful, “I don’t doubt it.”

“I think of you often and now you are here but you are not… and I am not… And it is hard because there are times…”

“What Jaime?”

“There are times you look at me as if I am him.”

“You are.”

“Not yet,” he says, she must understand this, “But still you look at me as if you…” He cannot speak the word. He cannot admit that he’s noticed the way she’s been looking at him the way she looks at the other Jaime. He cannot admit that he knows what that means.

“I do.”

“Not yet,” Jaime repeats. She must understand that he is not yet the man she loves, “Not yet.”

“I do,” she says, “I love you. I loved you then. I love you now.”

She says it so easily. As if she is at peace with it. As if it does not pain her. As if it does not torment her. As if it does not tear her apart.

“I am… I am in King’s Landing. Right now. That is where I will return to. When I stop being here, I will be back in King’s Landing.” With Cersei. That is where he will be. That is where he is. Even if right now he is not there.

“Yes,” she says, “And I love you. I loved you then, as you are, exactly as you are right now. I loved you. I love you. I tried to deny it then. I will not do so now. I will not pretend otherwise when I get to look upon you as you are.”

“As I was,” he corrects. He is her past. A shadow, a memory of the man she will marry. He is not real to her. He cannot allow himself to be real to her.

“As you are,” she says, “You looked like this when you gave me Oathkeeper. How long ago was that for you?”

He exhales, “Less than a moon. You looked back at me as you rode away.”

“I loved you already,” she says.

Jaime does not know what to say to that.

At least Brienne does not expect him to reply.

Then Brienne lays her hand upon his stump as easily as if it was his hand.

“Thank you for the sword Jaime.”

*

Jaime watches a flock of gulls circle above the coast.

Brienne’s hand is no longer on his stump as they sit and watch the waves but he is thinking of it still, can still feel the warmth of her hand on his scarred wrist. The wrist Cersei will not touch. The wrist Cersei cannot stand the sight of. Cersei can hardly stand the sight of him anymore, golden hand or not.

Cersei cannot stand the sight of him but he is seven years from Cersei.

Jaime is seven years from Cersei and he finds he is not sorry for that fact.

He chances a glance at Brienne. She smiles at him and Jaime looks back to the birds, to the sea, to the bay, to anything that isn’t Brienne looking at him like he’s the man she loves.

*

That afternoon the three of them go out to the yard together. They don’t go as far as putting on armour for the occasion. Just a few friendly matches is what they have planned. That’s all.

*

It goes like this:

Sparring with Brienne here on Tarth makes Jaime wonder why he sent her from King’s Landing without taking advantage of their proximity while he had the chance. They have swords in hand, the sun is shining, and there is nothing for either of them to do but this. Brienne is not wielding Oathkeeper today. Such a blade is not meant for a bit of fun between friends who are not wearing armour, but she is every bit the warrior he entrusted Oathkeeper to as they cross their blunted blades.

If only he still had his sword hand. Imagine what this would be like if he still had his sword hand… He’d been in chains the only time they fought when he was whole. He would have liked to have this opportunity when he had both of his hands. It would have been a sight to see. Of this is he certain.

He misses an easy block and Brienne’s blunt sword smacks against his leg. He’ll have a bruise. An impressive bruise. But a bruise he never would have received if he still had his sword hand.

He tries not to let his frustration at himself show, but Brienne sees it regardless.

*

It goes like this:

Brienne falls in step with him easily when they start again. She knows his footwork better than he does. She knows where his sword should be before Jaime has corrected the instincts of his body enough to move it there.

Brienne fights as if he is better with his left hand than he is, but there is no cruelty in this, just familiarity. She’s been sparring with a one-handed Jaime for ages. She is mindful not to hurt him, but she does not fight him as if he is a fool who has never held a sword before. For this he is grateful.

And Brienne is glorious. She’s better than she was when they fought. That is plain to see, even as they fight under far more friendly conditions than the last time. She is seven years better than the last time he fought her. He has caught himself thinking of their fight more often than he should since he returned to King’s Landing. He suspects he will find himself thinking of this match as well when he once again returns to where he is supposed to be.

Brienne knocks him down and then offers her hand to help lift him back up.

Jaime takes her outstretched hand and hauls himself back onto his feet.

He knows he’s smiling at her.

*

It goes like this:

Sparring with Brienne is a revelation. Jaime always dreamed it would be, and it is, even broken as he is. Sparring with Brienne is a revelation.

But watching Brienne spar with the other Jaime…

Watching Brienne and her Jaime like this is sobering.

Brienne and the other Jaime have done this many times before. They have a rhythm. They know each other. They know each other well. There’s a trust and a give and a take in every movement. They push each other harder by silent agreement. They fall in step effortlessly. Swords in hand, they dance like old friends.

They dance like lovers.

*

“Your turn,” Brienne says to him when she bows out and steps aside.

(There was no clear victor, but both her and the other Jaime are smiling as if they won.)

*

“Go easy on me,” the other Jaime says when Jaime steps forward and raises his sword to his, “I am not as young as I was.”

Jaime doesn’t point out that the other Jaime has had seven more years practice with his left hand. (The other Jaime already knows. )

Instead Jaime points out that Brienne is still younger than either of them.

“Don’t remind me,” the other Jaime grumbles amicably, “I feel ancient enough as it is.”

*

Their fight is not as vigorous as the one Jaime just witnessed, but what it lacks in intensity it makes up for in novelty several times over.

Jaime is more comfortable facing his older self than he was even the day before. He is far from at his best, but he is a little better than he was, able to mirror the other Jaime’s movements and turn them back on him. The other Jaime notices and works him harder in return.

All the while Brienne watches.

*

Brienne watches her Jaime with an open hunger that Jaime is trying not to notice as he and the other Jaime exchange blows. Jaime is trying so very hard not to notice the way she is looking at the other Jaime. Her Jaime. With all the love and the desire and the familiarity befitting a fond marriage.

Jaime tries very hard not to notice that Brienne is looking at them both like that.

*

But Brienne keeps looking at them both like that. All through their time in the yard, and then through supper as well.

She keeps looking at him as if…

*

Jaime excuses himself from their company as soon as he can.

*

He draws a bath late in the day. Takes his bath in a room that isn’t his bedchamber. Anywhere that isn’t the room connected to their marriage bed. He will avoid that room for as long as possible tonight. It is hard enough… it is hard enough to be here without being in the room next to the room where they…. not that he knows for certain that they are doing that tonight… but surely they are.

He saw the way Brienne was watching the other Jaime in the yard today. The way she was looking at him at supper afterwards.

(The way she was looking at them both.)

He scrubs at his skin harder and tries not to think of it any further.

*

He thinks of it all through his bath and again as he lies in bed after he has crept back to his room past their (mercifully quiet) bedchamber.

He should not have sparred with Brienne. He is thinking of her still. Often. He already thought of her too often and now…

He should not have sparred with the other Jaime again. Especially in front of Brienne.

He should not have watched them spar. He is thinking of them still. How they moved together…

It was a mistake to do so. A mistake he must not make again.

He will not spar with either of them again while he is here. It is too much. Already he is thinking of it too much. He will not spar with either of them again while he is here.

Simple as that.

*

Jaime manages to avoid them both for most of the following morning.

But the three of them return to the yard again before it is even midday.

*

They spend much of the afternoon out there.

And perhaps it is a mistake, Jaime thinks as Brienne aims a swipe at his right side that Jaime deflects and then returns with a grunt and there’s a moment when they pause to size each other up again that makes his blood sing, but it is a mistake he is willing to make while he has the opportunity.

*

“You’re still avoiding me,” Brienne says when she finds where he was avoiding her, lingering out in the yard after their matches, his sword still in hand. She had left with the other Jaime some time ago, but it seems she has returned for him.

He gives a half-hearted denial that even he does not believe. Brienne certainly doesn’t. She is in her armour today. He likes that she still wears it sometimes during the day, even when she does not need to. He likes her so much.

“I cannot stop thinking of it,” he confesses.

“Thinking of what?”

He tests the balance of the sword in his hand though he knows it well by now and does not look at her. He has been trying so hard not to think of it, but it is all he can think of.

“That I have never kissed you. But you have kissed me.”

“Countless times,” Brienne says, “I have kissed you countless times.”

“And I have never kissed you,” he says again, “And I keep thinking, if we were to kiss now, what would it be? A first kiss? Or one amongst hundreds?”

“I do not know,” she says carefully.

“Nor do I.”

“Jaime,” she says, “Do you want to find out?”

*

The other Jaime knows. Of course he knows. The moment they find him inside he looks at them and Jaime knows that he knows. The other Jaime knew the moment it happened. He knew before it happened. He remembers it happening.

It happened to him years ago.

*

Supper is a strange affair. The three of them sit down to eat together and Brienne keeps smiling at him. She keeps smiling at him like she’s still thinking about what it was like to kiss him.

The other Jaime is particularly jovial as he recounts several notable moments from their sword fights that afternoon. He keeps smiling at Brienne. And at Jaime.

There are no secrets between them.

And the other Jaime is amused by this. He’s somehow amused by the knowledge that his younger self and Brienne, his wife Brienne, were kissing not far from where they now sit and share a meal as if nothing about any of this is out of the ordinary.

Jaime doesn’t know how to feel about any of this.

*

Jaime doesn’t know how to feel about any of this but it seems his body does.

His cock is hard as he lies awake that night doing his best to ignore it. And everything.

It is late. The room next to him is quiet. Brienne and the other Jaime are asleep. He should be asleep as well. Not awake and hard and lying here thinking about…

*

Brienne is waiting for him when he emerges from his bedchamber the next morning. She is smiling at him like she has been thinking about yesterday as well.

She kissed him yesterday. Outside in the yard. Jaime was holding a sword when it happened. Brienne was holding onto him when it happened.

It was the first time Brienne has kissed him. It was the only time Brienne has kissed him.

Jaime has kissed Brienne once.

Brienne has kissed him countless times.

Jaime cannot not stop thinking of her.

(He wants to kiss her again.)

*

They break their fast together, the three of them.

(Jaime wants to kiss her again.)

They go for a walk together, the three of them meandering over the rolling hills without much direction or purpose.

(Jaime wants to kiss her again.)

They find their way back to the yard by mid-afternoon, the promise of swords and sweat and sunlight too great to ignore.

(Jaime wants to kiss her again.)

*

After a particularly spirited bout with Brienne the other Jaime announces he is far too old for this and says he is overdue for a bath. He steps closer to Brienne before he leaves, and Jaime watches out of the corner of his eye as the other Jaime uses his stump to push a strand of hair off of Brienne’s forehead before he heads back.

He has been here in their company for days and he is still far from used to watching them simply be together. Even outside of the strangeness that the other Jaime is him. (Him seven years from now, he corrects himself, not _him_.) Even setting that as aside as he can, he is far from used to seeing the two of them together. There is something almost effortless about it. They are so comfortable around one another.

“Ready for another?” Brienne asks him, her tourney sword in hand.

Jaime raises his own sword.

He wants to kiss her again, but this, this is almost as good.

*

“You move like him,” she says as they take a breather, “More than you think.”

“He’s better than me,” Jaime says, because it is true. And it is easier to speak such truths when the other Jaime is not around.

Brienne smiles a little in a way that makes him desperate to be able to kiss her again, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Jaime shakes off her complement. It is not deserved.

(Shaking off the desire to kiss her again is proving impossible.)

*

In the end, it is Brienne who kisses him again.

She kisses him after a particularly good match. One where there were two tiny moments where he felt wholly himself. Two tiny moments when he moved without thought and his sword was right where it should be and everything was right with the world. And when they lowered their swords she kissed him. Right there in the open. She just kisses him like it is normal to lower their guards and then kiss sometimes.

And it probably is normal for her, he realizes a moment later, when he allows himself to kiss her back because he wants to (oh gods does he want to). Sparring and kissing right here where anyone could see.

Jaime can hardly imagine living such a life.

*

“Something to think of,” Brienne says when she steps back from him, leaving him blinking at her like a green boy.

Jaime wonders if he will ever be able to think of anything else.

*

There is one more match between them. Jaime is equally focused and distracted. Swords and sunlight and Brienne were always an intoxicating combination and now, standing where he is, when he is, with a Brienne who just kissed him, Jaime is the best kinds of overcome.

*

When they stop again there is part of him that longs to kiss her once more. To step forward and kiss her because he can. Because they are here on Tarth and he is seven years from himself and here he can kiss Brienne with sword in hand.

But he doesn’t.

Brienne seems to know exactly what he’s thinking though, because she beckons him away from the yard with a smile that makes his heart race.

*

She leads him to a simple sitting room, and sit they do, side by side on a couch.

(Then they kiss again.)

(They kiss quite a lot.)

*

The sound of intentionally loud footsteps has Jaime pulling back and sitting back up. Brienne still has her hands on him, one on his chest, the other on his stump. She makes no effort to move away from him as the other Jaime enters the room and Jaime hastily crosses his legs and lays his hand over his lap in a decidedly casual manner.

“There you are,” the other Jaime says as he comes into the room with his hair still damp and in fresh clothes, “If either of you were looking to have a bath before we sup, now is the time.”

“Of course,” Brienne says as she straightens herself out a little to sit beside him (her hand is still on his stump), “Thank you.”

“Am I interrupting anything?” the other Jaime adds innocently as he sits in a chair across from them.

*

The other Jaime knows. Gods does he know. Jaime is trying not to look or feel too guilty about it.

But the fact remains that he and Brienne were just rutting against each other on the couch and they’re still sitting too close to pretend otherwise and the other Jaime _knows_. He fucking knows and he does not seem to mind in the slightest.

And now he’s chatting pleasantly with Brienne about this and that as if it is of no concern that moments ago she had his younger self’s cock pressed against her strong thigh.

Jaime crosses his legs more firmly.

The other Jaime knows why.

*

When Jaime is certain his situation has resolved itself enough for him to be able to stand without the effects of their previous activities being on display for the other Jaime to see, he excuses himself. He does not say why. It does not matter.

The other Jaime said he did not need to explain himself to him, but all the same, Jaime does not relish the thought of trying to defend what he and Brienne were doing. It is indefensible. She is not the Brienne of his own time. He is not the Jaime she is married to.

He can’t… he can’t let this keep happening.

*

He means to skip supper entirely. Surely that is the only thing he can do. Avoid the other Jaime and his knowing looks and avoid Brienne to avoid the temptation to think it could happen again. Avoiding them both is the only thing Jaime can do.

But it is the other Jaime who comes to find him and invites him to join them and Jaime cannot bring himself to refuse.

*

Jaime follows the other Jaime towards where Brienne is waiting for them.

“Forgive me,” Jaime says, feeling it necessary to clear the air between them. He is not one to ask for forgiveness. Not of anyone. He has never felt the need to justify himself in this way before. Not to his father or to Cersei or to masses who call him ‘Kingslayer’. And it’s not just for what happened that afternoon with Brienne. He feels… he feels no matter what he does he is failing the Jaime in front of him.

Jaime is failing the other Jaime and Brienne in ways he could never have dreamed of before he came here.

“There is no need for that,” the other Jaime says, “You do not need to explain yourself to me. Not about Brienne. Not about Cersei. Not about what you have done before you came here or what you will do when you return to your own time.”

“I’m not supposed to be here. This is your time. This is your home.” That is his Brienne, waiting for them to come join her at the table just beyond the door they are fast approaching. This is the other Jaime’s life. And Jaime is not supposed to be here.

“But you are here. Just as I was once. And you do not need to explain yourself to me about what you do while you are here,” the other Jaime pauses at the door for a moment to look back at him before he adds, “And neither does Brienne.”

*

Jaime understands quite suddenly, as he sits down and he sees the way the other Jaime and Brienne look at him. The other Jaime, his older self, the man Jaime will become… The other Jaime loves him.

And it’s not… The other Jaime is not in love with him. Not the way he is in love with Brienne. Not the way Brienne is in love with her husband in return.

But the other Jaime knows him and the other Jaime understands him and he sees him and he cares for him.

What is that if not love?

And it is not precisely like the love Brienne has for him. The love she has for the man who will one day be her husband. But it is love all the same.

That is what Jaime understands as they begin to eat tonight. They love him. Both Brienne and the other Jaime. They love him. As he is. Exactly as he is. Right here and now. They see him as he is and they want nothing from him and they love him all the same.

They love him.

Jaime does not know what to do with such generous love.

*

After they have eaten they retire to the room where Jaime first encountered them here. The three of them sit and talk and take turns tending to the small fire until it is late.

*

It is late and Brienne announces that she is going to retire to her bedchambers.

Jaime nods. It is late. He best retire as well.

*

Jaime is still fully dressed, lying on the bed Brienne never uses, trying not to think of her in the room next door.

He is failing of course, but at least he is no longer in that comfortable sitting room with the two of them, laughing and talking and forgetting that he does not belong here. That he has no place here.

Here in the bedchamber Brienne never uses it is easier to remember that Jaime does not belong here.

*

A knock on the door that connects his bedchamber to theirs. He considers not answering it. It is late. He could feign at being asleep already. It has been a long day. It has been a long several days.

Brienne is standing there when he opens the door. She’s looking at him with determination, as if it takes tremendous courage to stand here in front of him like this on the cusp of their adjoining rooms.

“Brienne? Did you need something from your room?”

She shakes her head so Jaime waits for her to tell him what brings her to his door at this hour.

“Jaime,” she says, steeling herself the way she does when they’re out on the yard and she’s preparing herself for whatever comes next, “When I said I was going to my bedchambers, what I wanted to say was that you are welcome to join me here.”

His heart pounds.

“Jaime, you are welcome to join me, if you wish to.”

“I…” he hesitates. The other Jaime knows he and Brienne have kissed. On several occasions, the last of which was admittedly rather prolonged. But even so, kissing on the couch is a far cry from—

From.

From whatever Brienne is offering right now.

Then the other Jaime steps into view behind her, placing his hand on her waist as he looks over her shoulder at him. He’s grinning, that bastard.

“Jaime,” Brienne says, “You are welcome to join us, if you wish to.”

*

That bastard. The other Jaime knew the whole time this was where this was going. He knew that this would be offered between the three of them. He knew. And what’s worse is the other Jaime knows what Jaime chooses. He remembers choosing. He remembers what happens next.

And now the other Jaime is regarding him with an innocent sort of curiosity, as if what Jaime will do in the face of this proposition has the possibility to surprise him.

But the other Jaime knows. He knows and he remembers and Jaime doesn’t have to explain himself to him.

Jaime steps over the threshold between their rooms.

*

Brienne takes his hand, guiding him forward and kissing him without preamble. Brienne kisses him. Right there in front of the other Jaime.

She kisses him.

And he kisses her back.

It is not… it is not as strange as it should be.

*

Brienne knows how to touch him. To be on the receiving end of years of experience is jarring and wonderful. The other Jaime chuckles when Brienne makes him gasp with only the slightest movement of her hand before she’s asked if she can remove his shirt.

*

Brienne and the other Jaime have done this many times before. They have a rhythm. They know each other. They know each other’s bodies. Jaime has known it since he watched them spar. He has known this since he arrived here. He has tried not to dwell on the specifics of it too much. But here with them like this it is impossible to ignore.

They communicate with little touches and quiet murmurs of encouragement as Brienne undoes the laces of the other Jaime’s tunic before turning her attention back to him as the other Jaime’s hand roams across her body.

Jaime follows her lead as she kisses him again, as she asks him to help her out of her tunic, as she urges him to touch her when he hesitates at the sight of her bare from the waist up in front of him with soft words of encouragement, and then with little sounds of approval when he does.

Jaime doesn’t… he doesn’t know Brienne this way.

But she knows him.

*

Brienne asks if he is willing to join her in her bed, if he is willing to join them both there.

And Jaime is.

Jaime is more than willing to join them there.

She guides him to the bed and the other Jaime follows, his hand in Brienne’s as the three of them settle onto their marriage bed together wearing nothing but their breeches.

*

It should be strange to be the other man in her bed.

It should be strange.

Everything about this should be so strange…

*

Brienne is lying on the bed between them. Between him and the other Jaime. Between him and her husband. Right now she is lying on her side, kissing Jaime. Him, the Jaime who is not her husband. She kisses him for a while. A long while. The other Jaime is behind her, his arm wrapped around her with his hand down the front of her unlaced breeches. His efforts are making Brienne’s breath hitch and her hips roll in time with his movements.

Brienne gasps her way out of the kiss she was sharing with Jaime and then turns to kiss her husband and the other Jaime obliges.

“Ask him,” the other Jaime says a short while later to Brienne, his voice is low but Jaime hears every word. How could he not. He’s right here. He’s right here beside them and Brienne’s hand is on his chest, “Ask him for what you want.”

Brienne’s cheeks are already flushed, but she goes a deeper shade of red at her Jaime’s words.

“It’s all right,” the other Jaime reassures her as he trails kisses down her neck, “It’s only us here.”

Brienne nods, as much to herself as to her Jaime before she looks right at him, as if determined to be as forthcoming as possible, as if she hasn’t been already, “I want you to fuck me.”

*

A first time. Their first time for him, but not for her. He has spent the last several days trying not to imagine how it could have happened between them. Even when he imagined a scenario that had them doing this while he was here in her time, he had never considered it could be like this: Here in their bed with Brienne and the other Jaime, the three of them together.

Jaime had not considered it could be like this.

*

She knows his body so well it makes him ache, but he does not know hers. Every moment is a discovery. New and familiar all at once. She is careful with him, asking and checking and never assuming, even though she knows… she knows him. She’s done this with him many times before now…

*

He feels her catch herself and start to ask if he would like it if she were to do whatever it was she was about to do once again.

“Brienne. Please just—” he cuts her off and then stops himself. The request came unbidden and almost came tumbling from him before he could think it through. Before he could realize what exactly he was about to ask her to do.

“Jaime? What is it?”

He shakes his head as he stills to regroup. It’s nothing. He shouldn’t have even thought it. To be here with her is already a gift beyond his wildest dreams.

“Jaime, what were you going to say?” she asks.

“Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Tell me,” she says, “What is it you want?”

It feels like too much to ask for. She is giving him so much already. But he is here and she asked what he wants. If she was brave enough to invite him into her bed surely he can be brave enough to ask her for this. Still, he can’t quite meet her eyes when he lets himself say it, “Touch me how you touch him?”

“Oh Jaime,” she says, her voice breaks over his name as she clenches her hand in his short hair, and somehow he finds the courage to look at her, “Oh gods, Jaime, yes.”

*

She touches him with years of experience guiding her every move.

She touches him without hesitation or fear or shame.

She still checks with him to make sure he’s all right as they move together.

(And he is more than all right.)

She touches him with such love.

She touches him with such love he can barely contain himself.

He can barely contain himself until she gently reminds him that he does not need to.

Not when he’s here with her.

*

The other Jaime is there to care for Brienne afterwards. As Brienne and Jaime lie there awestruck by the immensity of what they’ve just done, of what they’ve just experienced, the other Jaime is there, speaking to Brienne, soft words of love that Jaime wishes he could speak himself but he cannot find any words at all.

Thank the seven the other Jaime is here.

*

The other Jaime is there to care for him as well. This surprises Jaime, though perhaps it should not. He should not be surprised that the man he will become asks if he’s all right after what has just happened.

He was him once after all.

He knows exactly what Jaime is feeling right now.

He knows exactly what Jaime is feeling right now, which means Jaime does not need to lie to him, nor does he try to. He does not even attempt to nod. How could he experience all of this and know he has to leave Brienne the following day and be anything close to all right?

The other Jaime reaches across Brienne to squeeze his forearm, “You will be. I swear it.”

His reassurance nearly shatters Jaime apart.

Because Jaime knows he is right.

*

“Please,” Brienne says to the other Jaime a short while later.

“Of course,” he says. Of course. She does not need to ask more specifically than that. The other Jaime knows exactly what she needs.

And for a moment Jaime feels like he should leave.

But then Brienne reaches for him and says, “Stay here with me.”

And there is nowhere else Jaime would rather be.

*

It should be strange to be here with them.

It should be strange to touch her while another man is inside her.

It should be strange to be a part of this, of their marriage, of their love.

But he is part of it.

Even if he is here before his time.

Jaime is a part of them.

*

Jaime wakes up in the early morning. He is on Brienne’s right. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep at all. He had meant to return to the other room, where he belongs. He sits and puts his feet on the floor, intending to go back to his own room before they wake.

He hears the bed creak and knows he is too late.

The other Jaime is looking over at him in the dark. Jaime tugs the sheet over his lap. The other Jaime does not laugh at his belated and pointless attempt at modesty.

“You knew this would happen,” Jaime says, meaning this, the three of them in bed together. He would clarify, but of course he does not need to. The other Jaime knows exactly what he is speaking of.

“Yes,” the other Jaime agrees, “I did.”

The other Jaime knew it would happen and he knew what it would mean.

“Everything you’re feeling is appropriate to the situation,” the other Jaime says, quietly enough to ensure he doesn’t wake Brienne, “Whatever it may be.”

Brienne’s love for him continues to shake him to his core, reforging parts of him he was sure were set in stone, but there is something about the way the other Jaime cares for him that dismantles him in ways he is reluctant to examine.

“You don’t have to coddle me,” Jaime says, unwilling to accept his kindness right now. No one is this kind to him. He certainly isn’t this kind to himself, “You don’t have to pretend you don’t know precisely what I’m feeling right now for my sake.”

It is dark still, but he sees Jamie’s silhouette shift as he sits up on his side of the bed and runs his hand down his face, “It has been a long time since I was you.”

“But you remember this.” He remembers being here. He remembers being him. He remembers every elating, agonizing part of this.

“Yes.”

“Then you know why I should go,” Jaime says, meaning to go. To stand and gather what clothing of his he can find on the floor and return to the room he should be in right now.

The other Jaime does not reply right away.

Jaime sighs. “You know why I stay, don’t you?”

“Yes,” the other Jaime says, “You can ask me if you like.”

“That isn’t what I want to ask you.”

“What do you want to ask me?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaime says, “You won’t tell me.”

“This time I will.”

*

There are so many things Jaime wants to know. There are so many things Jaime does not want to know. There are so many things he can’t know, he shouldn’t know, he already knows too much, far too much. Even knowing he has a future at all feels like too much. When he goes back he must protect Cersei and Myrcella and Tommen. The children most of all. They are innocent. Jaime will protect them. And even knowing he leaves Cersei…. he will find a way to protect her somehow as well.

But the more he knows, the more he feels himself falling into the trap he’s seen ensnare Cersei. Maneuvering against a fate that is beyond his control. Anything he asks the other Jaime now would only make that worse.

Jaime shakes his head, trying to clear it, “I already know too much.”

“You know enough.”

“To do what?”

“You know enough to do the best you can against what’s coming.”

“That’s it?” Jaime asks.

“That is enough.”

It doesn’t feel like enough.

*

“It will be difficult when you return, especially at first,” the other Jaime says, answering the question Jaime himself dares not ask, “Then your time here will feel like a dream. There will be times you hardly believe it happened at all.”

“But this is not a dream.” Jaime doesn’t want this to feel like a dream. He is here and this is real and he hates that it will feel temporary. He hates that it is temporary. That he has been granted this taste of another life only to be sent back to where he was.

“It is not.”

Jaime nods, “I am glad of that.”

“So am I,” the other Jaime says, “And so is she.”

*

Between them Brienne stirs enough to ask, “S’morning?”

The other Jaime trails his hand down her arm before he quietly answers, “Not yet.”

“Then come back to bed,” Brienne mumbles into her pillow.

The other Jaime looks at Jaime.

They go back to bed.

*

When morning comes Jaime is still there in their bed with them. He wakes to the feel of Brienne rolling over onto her back beside him, stretching as she yawns.

“Good morning,” the other Jaime says to her, as if these are perfectly ordinary circumstances in which to find themselves waking up to.

“I need a bath,” Brienne groans.

She’s not wrong. The other Jaime and Jaime can’t help but share a grin at that.

“Shut up,” she says to their particularly loud silence, “Both of you.”

That does not make them smile any less.

“Gods,” she says, moving to hide her face beneath her arm, “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” they answer in unison. Him and the other Jaime both. Jaime did not think before he spoke, he just did.

Brienne is more fully awake now, looking between them both and lost for words. Jaime fears she feels like she needs to apologize or explain, but Jaime does not need her to explain herself. Not about this, not about anything, and neither does the other Jaime.

They are lucky she loves them. And Brienne will never know the full extent of the truth of that statement.

“I’ll go prepare you a bath,” the other Jaime says quietly, leaning down to speak to her directly before he sits back up to address them both once more, “And afterwards our honoured guest can decide what he wishes to do with his final day in our company.”

*

A bath for Brienne while Jaime washes up and dresses in the other Jaime’s clothing for what will be the last time.

He cannot believe his days on Tarth have passed so quickly. Too quickly.

He did not expect it to be like this when the time came. He spent much of his first few days wishing to leave immediately.

That is far from the case now.

He regrets that today is to be his last day on Tarth for a long while. Years and years will pass before he is here again, he can only assume. It will be years before he is back on Tarth with Brienne. But there is comfort in knowing they will find themselves here someday. That everything that separates them in his own time is not enough to keep them apart forever.

Today is his last day on Tarth for now, but he and Brienne will return here one day. Together.

At least there is that.

And at least Jaime has today.

*

They have breakfast before anything else, the three of them sharing sly glances throughout, as if daring the others to speak the obvious comment about them having worked up an appetite. (They manage to get through their meal without such a remark, but Brienne blushes fiercely and unprompted more than once to their collective delight.)

*

When the other Jaime asks him how he would like to spend his final day here Jaime does not hesitate to answer.

*

They go back to the meadow in the hills first. Shouts and swords and kisses that are anything but stolen are exchanged freely between them.

Then the three of them return to the secluded beach in the afternoon.

Frolic is definitely the right word.

*

“Do I return to my time as soon as night falls?” Jaime asks, after they have returned to their home as the sun approaches the horizon, “Or…”

“We have time,” the other Jaime confirms.

Brienne smiles as she pulls him close, as she pulls them both close, “Thank the gods.”

*

Afterwards Jaime is the one lying between the two of them. Brienne on his right, the other Jaime on his left.

It is not strange.

*

Jaime is lying on his side facing Brienne. He can’t seem to make himself do anything else but lie here and look at her.

Brienne.

She’s looking back at him. Brienne is smiling at him. She’s smiling at them both. Both him and the other Jaime lying here looking back at her. She’s still touching him. Her hand trailing along his skin. He wonders how long it will be before they are together like this again. He wonders how long it will be before he sees her again. He wonders…

Jaime does not want to move from this place but he must. Soon he will return to his time. He has to get up. He has to get his armour and his golden hand. He has to get dressed. He has to leave.

Brienne’s hand trails over his hip to rest at his waist and Jaime feels the other Jaime lay his hand on top of hers.

“I should…” Jaime trails off.

“There is no need to prepare for your return to your time. You return as you left,” the other Jaime says, “Stay.”

Jaime stays.

*

Brienne shifts a little closer to him and he lets his arm wrap further around her. Her touch is so gentle as she traces his jawline with her fingertips. He’s got a day’s worth of stubble, but it isn’t the beard her Jaime has.

“I’m going to miss you,” Brienne says.

“There is no need,” Jaime points out, gesturing to the other Jaime as he does so, “I’m right there. And I assure you, he’s not going anywhere.”

The other Jaime exhales sharply. Jaime can feel him shaking with silent laughter behind him.

Brienne sighs, “You really are insufferable.”

But she’s smiling as she says it.

She’s smiling at them both.

*

“I’ll give you two a moment alone,” the other Jaime says a little while later. He doesn’t add ‘to say goodbye’ but that is what he means.

“Stay,” Jaime says. His voice is a little more fragile than he would prefer, but he does not want the other Jaime to leave his side at this moment any more than he wants Brienne to.

Brienne squeezes his hand. The other Jaime tucks his arm more securely around him and stays where he is.

The other Jaime stays with him.

*

“I love you.” Brienne says to him. Brienne says it so easily. She has said it to him a dozen times at least over the course of this week, and to the other Jaime countless times before. It is so easy for her to love him here. Here and now, it is so easy for her to love him.

He still cannot say it back.

Not yet.

He does not know when he will be able to. But he will. Someday.

For now though, he is the lesser man in her bed. And he regrets that more than he will be able to express, though he must try. So he tries.

“There is no need to apologize,” Brienne says.

But there is. “I should have gone with you. When I gave you Oathkeeper. I should have gone with you.”

He had thought about it in the weeks that passed since he sent her away. He has thought it with increasing frequency, every day he has been here with her. With her and the other Jaime. He should have gone with her when he had the chance.

“It’s all right,” she says, and she means it. She holds no resentment that he did not go with her then. No, she loved him then and she loves him now.

“I should have gone with you,” he says again. The scars on her cheek. On her body. He does not know how they got there but somehow he feels that perhaps if he had gone with her, the worst of them could have been prevented, but it’s more than that. He should have gone with her because he wants to be by her side. Whatever he sent her off to face, he wants to be there with her when she does. But he is not. He is in King’s Landing. When he stops being here on Tarth with Brienne he will be in King’s Landing without her. He swallows and makes himself say it, “I wanted to go with you. I wish I had.”

“Jaime, I will see you again,” Brienne says, her hand is soft and firm against him, “Sooner than you think.”

“Don’t tell me,” Jaime says, closing his eyes and relaxing into her touch while he can, “I’m looking forward to it.”


End file.
